


Riptides

by Picklefinster



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Minor Violence, Motherhood, Unethical Experimentation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-16 22:08:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14819787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Picklefinster/pseuds/Picklefinster
Summary: The idea of a riptide is almost in the sense of taking a risk, if you stay in the current too long you might get pulled under.





	Riptides

A cold sigh entered the room, the elements raging in the air outside the small apartment. The ball of a pen dancing on paper was audible in the otherwise silent space. The dance was brief and painful to the pens instructor, her eyes stung while her mind weighed heavily on the papers markings. She decided to stop her midnight work and sit back, today was a stressful one. Her left hand giving a quick stroke to her midsection, swollen and heavy with her unborn that was possibly asleep. Times like these, where thinking were all she could do she dreaded; she hated to think, thinking got her in this mess, often she punished herself when things weren’t in her favor and in these hardened times she drank away the rushing thoughts and burdens that plagued her subconscious. Her right hand, burned and scarred from months before kept its stinging feelings of the acid like material that was used against her, reached for the watered down glass of Irish Whiskey that sat idly by next to the already half drunken bottle from which it came. She kept this bottle secret, stashed away from her lover who might try to deny her way of coping if he dare heard rumors of it.

_“Why does he care?”_ Her mind began to whirl with thought of her lover. _“The child isn’t even his.”_ With that, she tilted her head back and swallowed the dull alcohol in one swift gulp. The woman was accustomed to alcohol, she’d been drinking it since she was legally able to, it ran in her blood to enjoy a drink but now it only burned when it cascaded down her throat, she was unsure why. Her mind drew up the conclusion that it was caused by a symptom of her pregnancy where it involves vomiting stomach acid and other stomach contents but a kicking feeling in the pit of her stomach told her that perhaps she knew what she was doing was wrong… Another drink would take her mind off of this; just like that another half glass of Whiskey went down the hole.

The woman continued to sit laid back in her chair watching a winter storm brew before her, only a large kitchen window separating the two. Her active mind focused on the whirlwinds push on against the window, almost as if to try and touch her as she would pardon. The cold empty tumbler glass settled on her swollen abdomen, steadying it with her injured hand. The blizzard was calming despite its violent nature, a peaceful hypnosis to the fiery haired woman as her eyes began to grow heavy, eventually closing. The tensions in her upper body slowly relaxed, shoulders drooped and nestled against the cushion of her arm chair. The cold began to creep onto her, tickling her pale skin, similar to her lovers touch only without the tender caress he possessed. Her free hand subconsciously tucked itself under her belly, stroking the bottom with her thumb gently, the child within shifting its weight around to achieve comfort. By now the woman was setting into the tune of silence, a collection of numbness course through her as the spell of slumber waved over.

"Moira!" A loud Texan voice called out, the equally loud slam of the front door following right after. The fiery haired woman's eyes sprung open, an agitated sigh being forced from her lungs.

The cowboy-like man walked into the kitchen, boot spurs clinking as he walked. "Howdy," He greeted. "Sure is like Hell out there."  
Moira turned in her seat to face the cowboy, who only lifted up a partially wet plastic bag when he met her gaze.

"What are you doing here, Jesse?" She asked, her voice weak and dry.

"Reyes wanted me to send you some essentials," He strolled over to her and placed the bag on the empty side of the table. "Figure milk and bread good?"

Moira watched Jesse remove a quart of milk and a loaf of bread from the bag. "I guess."

"Uh oh," The tone of the cowboy's voice made Moira's heart sink. He clicked his tongue taking notice of the Whiskey. "You know," Jesse sat in the nearest available chair. "Gabe sent me through a blizzard to come and check up on ya'." He reached over to the bottle and held it at the spout. "Now what do you reckon' he'll do when he finds out you polished off half a bottle of this stuff?"

Moira bit her inner cheek, she wasn't one to tolerate passive threats but she played along in the conversation anyway. "I'll assume he'll do what he always does when he catches me," She said with a light grin. "Throw the bottle at the wall and tell me to clean it up."

"Or you could just stop drinkin' all together."

"Or I could offer you the rest of the bottle in assurance that this stays between us?"

As tempting as the offer was to the cowboy, he simply could not brush this off. "Moira, for God's sake, you're pregnant!" His voice raised like tempered fire to the woman. "Don't you think what yer' doin' is wrong?"

"I'd like to know where the morality of my decisions are of any of your concern McCree?"

Jesse shook his head, quirking his lips. "Look, I don't care what you do I'm not forcin' ya' to do anything." He says. "But God dammit, I'm not just gonna' sit back and watch a pregnant woman drink heavy liquor without battin' an eye!"

"Why?" She asked. "Why, does it bother you?"

"Because doctor," He rebutted. "It's like watching a herd of sheep running for a cliff and just watching them all fall to their deaths."

"So you think ratting me out to Gabe will do me any good?"

"In hindsight, yes," Jesse stood from the seat. "I'd be doing your kid there a favor." He pointed to her midsection before going for the milk quart and taking to the refrigerator, the sight of the defiant woman disgusted him.

Moira stood and walked over to McCree. "So, if that's it," Her voice lingered with annoyance of the man. "I wouldn't want to keep you from your duties, go run along and tell Gabe what I did tonight, see if I care." The pregnant woman made her way to the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

This wasn't what Jesse McCree signed up for, he didn't sign up to be a babysitter to a stubborn creature such as Moira. "I have to stay by the way, ain't no way I can brave the storm twice..." This seemed pointless, the whole trip seemed to be a waste of his time. He scoffed before returning to the kitchen table, the half drunken bottle of Whiskey calling his name. "I'm finishing this bottle just so you know!" He felt Moira ought to know, not like it mattered. Jesse took a swig from the spout, the amber liquor whirled down his gullet. His wandering eyes scanned the room for anything to take his mind off the growing boredom and dying aggravation. The small packet of pamphlets left on the table brought on his curious side. A quick glance at the bedroom to make sure there weren't any other staring eyes, from the one person in particular, before bringing the booklets to his person.

Upon a glance, the small booklets were in a different language, one Jesse had yet to study on. Closer examination showed handwritten notes also in the dialect. The cowboy tried to make sense of the few pamphlets in which he had shuffled in his hands at least three times by now. Normally, Jesse would have let it be and returned the booklets to their original spot where Moira had sat not too long ago but like a child, his curiosity showed no bounds.

"Moira!" He called, taking a trip across the apartment to the master bedroom. "Moira, I have a question about these here documents."

Jesse waited outside the bedroom for the ginger-haired doctor, hearing the creaky bed and slight groans beyond the wooden door until she answered.

"What are you on about?" She answered the door in a long robe, held together tightly by her hand.

"These lil' booklets with this language I can't read." Jesse held them up for her to see.

Moira's eyes widened for a second before swiping them from the cowboy's hands. "Give me those!" She snapped. "How dare you invade my privacy!"

Rather than get annoyed by the woman's attitude, the cowboy kept his head calm, having his suspicions the main priority. "What are they?" He asked. "What's the silly language it's written in?"

Moira was quick to sigh at Jesse's choice of wording. "It's _Gaelic_ ," The words seemed to grit between her teeth. "And the contents of these are none of your business!" She shook the booklets in his face at her emphasis.

"Aight, first off," The cowboy swatted the pamphlets away from his face. "Don't wave yer' _Gaelic_ papers in my face, save that for someone who can tolerate it." His voice lingered with anger. "Secondly, after everything said and done here tonight, it's gonna' hurt you to just answer a simple question?"

The doctor stared back at the cowboy, annoyed by his disrespect. "I don't have to answer to you."

"Then answer to the commander, I've taken enough shit from yer' nasty mouth and I've barely been 'ere an hour," It was clear now that he was venting but his tone of voice seemed to take an effect on Moira. "I didn't have to trek milk and bread through a blizzard just to be stuck in my boss' apartment with his pregnant alcoholic girlfriend!"

"I'm not an alcoholic, McCree!" Moira's voice broke halfway through her sentence, one would blame her weak emotional state but perhaps there was some mental strain too.

"Then what would you call it?" Jesse's tone seemed to simmer down. "I figure a _doctor_ such as yourself, or any woman for that matter, would be smart enough to know _not_ to drink heavy liquor while pregnant."

The ginger-haired woman lowered her head to the thin booklets held lightly in her hands, she felt the tears build up in her eyes and sighed through her nose. Moira's heterochromatic eyes shot up to Jesse, the sadness in her brewed into a heated anger before slamming the door in his face with a huff.

"Moira," McCree whined sub-par going for the doorknob but Moira had already locked it. "Moira, come on now..." The cowboy knocked on the door a few times pleading for her to rather frustrated. He leaned against the door to better project his voice. "I ain't leaving til' I get some answers."

The doctor on the opposite end remained silent. "Come on Moira," Jesse repeated, his voice was calmer and borderline sympathetic. "You have to face the music sometime, hun."

The two remained quiet, the blizzard outside seemed to have begun to die down with them and had there not been the sound of sobbing coming from the bedroom, the apartment would have been utterly silent.

Jesse heard the light crying and sighed upsettingly. "Moira, why're you cryin'?"

The doctor had muttered something in between weeps but the rugged man could not make sense of it. "Yer' gonna' have to speak up there, darl'."

A moment passed before the lock on the door was undone and opened slowly. Standing in view was the ginger-haired doctor, face red and wet from tears and sadness while her pamphlets laid at her feet. "Please don't tell him..." Her broken words poured from her in a near begging attempt. "Please don't tell him I was drinking."

"Then tell me why you were at least, gimme' a reason."

Moira wiped her face with the sleeve of her robe but was useless against the overpour of pregnancy hormones. "Multiple reasons..." She said. "I usually drink when I spend long hours thinking, it helps mellow out the stress."

"That's a piss poor excuse to even utter." Jesse crossed his arms and his ill feelings of the doctor quickly came back to him.

"I know..." She said, her voice was low and her chest was tight with knots. "That's not the real reason I was drinking." Moira turned to go to the bed, Jesse inched into the bedroom with hesitation. The doctor sat on the edge of the bed, one hand cradled her swollen belly while the other supported her while she sat.

Jesse entered the room and stopped just before the bed. "So, what's the reason you've been drinking tonight?"

"I just want it to end."

McCree raised an eyebrow. "Want what to end?"

"This," She rubbed her extended stomach. "My pregnancy..."

"Why do ya' wanna' do that, is something wrong with it?"

Moira didn't answer.

"You know there's special programs set up for disabled children, schools and whatnot." Jesse seemed a bit anxious.

"There's nothing wrong with it," Moira's voice was calm but low. "As far as I know."

"Doesn't really shed light on why you want to end it."

"I didn't imagine myself being in the situation that I am in right now," She looked down at Jesse's feet, her belly in the way to view her own. "If I did, perhaps there would've been another option rather than trying to force a miscarriage."

McCree felt a lump in his throat, the way she spoke about the subject with little remorse made his skin crawl. "There's always other options... Adoption for instance."

"I know, that's why I had the pamphlets to a few different agencies." Her eyes glanced over to the small booklets on the floor before scrolling back to McCree. "Of course, those are just in case 'plan A' happens to fail just as my previous projects have."

The Cowboy was dumbfounded, she had the other option in mind but still was trying for a miscarriage? It didn't seem sensible or in any way intelligent in his eyes, it just made him very upset, angry in fact at the waste of life knowing his words were a waste as well to the callous doctor.

"You know," He said after a few minutes. "There are also other ways of handling what you're tryna' do."

"I beg your pardon?"

"No use in letting a lil' baby suffer like this," He stepped forward to Moira who only seemed to raise an eyebrow at the man. "I'll make it quick and easy for the both of you."

"What are you suggesting, McCree?"

Jesse stood over Moira, sizing her up. "I figure a swift blow right about here," His hand brushed the center of her abdomen, causing Moira to flinch. "With enough force ought'a be enough to end both yer' sufferings."

The idea of ending this entire pregnancy right then and there seemed like a golden ticket for Moira as due to her attitude the whole night, but something seemed off about the doctor when the details of McCree's plan were brought in. Instinctively, Moira brought her hands to her stomach and grimaced at Jesse.

"What's the matter, Doc'?" McCree asked, his hand reached for Moira's shoulder but she shrugged him away. "You said you wanted it over with didn't ya'?" He again reached for her shoulder.

"Don't touch me, Jesse." Her voice had bite to it.

"You were the one who had the idea to wanna' end it you said it to me yourself," He went for her wrist and grasped it firmly. "I'm here to deliver."

Moira tried to pull her hand away from him. "Let go of me, McCree." She attempted again to release herself. "I said let go of me!"

The ginger-haired woman yanked and struggled immensely to pull herself away from Jesse, the whole time shielding her vulnerable midsection from him and demanding her release. Jesse failed to comply to her wishes and instead pushed the doctor onto her back and pinned her to the mattress.

"Gabriel isn't going to take to kindly to you doing this!"

"Neither is he goin' to take kindly to what you were planning, so I guess we're both in trouble." A fist was held idly at Jesse's side, ready for the final part of his plan.

"McCree, let me go," Moira's tears returned out of fear, her heart raced a mile a minute in her struggle. "I mean it!"

Jesse raised his fist to meet her gaze, the doctor was quick to notice though the motion of McCree's fist seemed like slow motion. Her hand which acted like a barrier to her unborn, waved upward and slashed vertically across the Cowboy's face with her nails. The man screamed in the upmost pain, backing up to the wall and holding his face, ultimately releasing his hold on the woman. Moira wasted little time standing from the bed, her adrenaline numbed any discomfort she may have had in her attempt to stand.

"Don't you ever touch me again," The alarm clock that normally stayed by the bedside was thrown at the man; Jesse flinched as the clock thrashed his side. Next to go flying at McCree were pictures hung on the wall, a pair of the doctor's old work shoes and whatever dirty laundry that happened to lay by the closet doors which hit his head and his arms protecting his face and the clothes just barely missing his lower half. "Don't you ever hurt my child..."

After the hale of bedroom objects ceased their fire on Jesse, he uncovered himself and looked to Moira who glared back with tears dripping from her cheeks and pure aggression seething with every breath she took, his face bleeding lightly from her defensive strike. "You're delusional, lady." The doctor heard none of his statement. "Seems what everyone says about you is about as true as true gets."

Moira stood in her place, just now getting the gist of the Cowboy's words, her mind was too riddled with anger to fully process them. She stared Jesse down as he made his way to the door until he stopped just before the threshold.

"I wasn't planning on actually hurting you, just so you know." Jesse looked back at Moira, a half glance at the disheveled doctor. "It just doesn't make sense how a person, soon to be a mother, cares so little for her child that she's willing to make herself miscarry like this..." He noticed Moira beginning to calm down. "Seems to me that you don't know what you want, or perhaps you take some kinda' pleasure in hurting others smaller than you?" McCree stood and waited to see if she'd answer, but she didn't. "Anyway, I'm not staying here any longer, I'd actually rather freeze than stay in whatever Hell yer' brewin' up." He remembered the pamphlets from earlier, they lay just at his feet and bends down to pick them up. "Honestly, I'd tell you to reconsider yer' _spontaneous abortion_ plan but at the rate yer' goin' at with this drinkin'…" Jesse held out the booklets to Moira. "I doubt that kid'll live to take its first breath."

Moira took a moment or two to drag her feet over to Jesse just enough to grab the pamphlets, she then backed away a few feet and remained silent.

"Well Doc', I bid ya' farewell for now," Jesse looked at the doctor one last time before heading off. "Merry Christmas."

Moira watched Jesse leave, she was thankful to see him gone that she spat curses at him in her native tongue as he walked out the front door. Perhaps now she thought, she could rest, if there was any to get after such a struggle; but first, the Whiskey needed to be hidden away from her lover's eyes if he so happened to come home tonight. The walk from the bedroom was a blur but she soon come to grasp the sight of the whiskey bottle on the table. Its amber color had a mesmerizing sheen under the single kitchen light, very tempting for the doctor, especially since her mind was jumbled with tension after her scuffle with Jesse.

" _One more would do no harm._ " She thought, pairing the amber alcohol with the iceless tumbler glass. She went to sip at the bitter liquor when her unborn began to kick and move for its nightly aerobics session, Moira's whole body tensed up to the point her lips became a dam for the whiskey she had just begun to drink. The little bit that managed to enter her stayed stagnant at the edge of her throat and refused to go further with each movement her child made. She tried to force it but her lips stayed tight to the rim of the glass and her throat closing to restrict any drop of alcohol. By now, Jesse's words began to surface to her unlike how they did before, bits of his conversation sticking out like sore thumbs and placing pressure on her psych. Her eyes again began to swell with tears as the desire to drink became increasingly difficult to the point it caused her physical pain, that's when she spit the contents of her mouth back into the glass and gagged for a clear breath, wailing as she slammed the glass on the table. Moira held her head in her injured hand, falling back into her original seat at the table. Even if she managed to drink again tonight, no amount of liquor would be enough to appease her sorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys, this is just the start of the story I apologize if it is a bit deep for a first chapter but this is just a base of what is to come~ I hope you enjoyed the chapter and expect more soon!


End file.
